


The Only Exception

by layna_lass



Series: Bughead Missing Moments [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 1x02, Canon, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Missing Moments, Reunion, Romance, bughead - Freeform, pop's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layna_lass/pseuds/layna_lass
Summary: ❝ up until now i had sworn to myself that i'm content with loneliness ❞In which Jughead considers the cons of being a loner, and Betty wonders how they've drifted so far (and when he got so tall)





	1. Chapter 1

Jughead Jones knows his role in life. He wouldn't be a good novelist, or a good social observer, if he didn't. In the drama that is Riverdale, with its picturesque appearance and quaint small-town values, he is the Outcast; brooding, sullen, and sardonic. His job is to make vaguely dark quips about how much he hates people whilst sitting in a corner and using as many overly complicated words as he knows (he knows a lot). The Outcast comes equipped with snarky comebacks, an inferiority complex, and a complicated background he never wants to discuss. For extra measures, he'll probably have a weird obsessive hobby that literally nobody else is into. He's a backdrop, a supporting character who exists merely for the sake of supporting the Golden Boy.

Sometimes, Jug is okay with that. He's content to be out of the spotlight. Truthfully, he _is_ brooding and sullen and sardonic. The dark quips come naturally. Over the years, he's found that being a loner suits him. 

But sometimes, he forgets. Sometimes, he sees another role, another life, and he lets himself want it. Like right now.

He's just walked into Pop's with Archie, enjoying the return of the only camaraderie he's ever been comfortable with, when Archie stops short. Following his gaze, Jug sees a raven-haired girl sitting in a booth, opposite a girl with a very familiar blonde ponytail. When the blonde turns around in her seat, she catches sight of Archie, and it's as if those two are the only ones in the room.

Jughead hasn't talked to Betty Cooper--really talked--in months, maybe years. But for a moment, he can't stop himself from wondering what it would feel like to have Betty Cooper look at you that way. Like... you're something important. Valuable.

He isn't that into girls. He's not gay, and it's not like it isn't something he thinks about, but it seems like such a small thing in face of the other problems he's tackling. He'd much rather have a home than a girlfriend, at the moment. Besides, his family is a trainwreck. He doesn't need to bring anyone else into that. 

But it's different when it comes to Betty. Not that he likes her, exactly. There's just this pull she has on him that he can't explain. He's found he can't brush her off as easily as the other members of her sex. She makes him want to linger a moment longer when they pass in the halls, say something that will make her laugh when they're leaving class.

She makes him think he's not really okay with being lonely. 

Jug looks at Archie, who's staring at Betty like she's his safety net. And isn't she? The person he can always fall back on when life goes to hell? For a moment, Jughead pictures this charmed life, where football scholarships are there for the taking and your dad works a steady job and perfect girls next door shower you with adoration...

He pulls himself back harshly. It's dangerously close to self-pitying, and as fricking messed up as his life is, that's the last shred of pride he clings to. He won't pity himself.

Looking at Betty, Jughead suddenly wonders if he should be there. Sure, he and Archie have returned to quasi-normalcy, but even before things fell apart over the summer, he and Betty hadn't been that close. Whatever's going on between the two of them, it doesn't have to do with him, and they most likely don't want him here right now.

As inconspicuously as possible, he removes his elbow from Archie's shoulder, tugging casually on his jacket. He's trying to come up with a solid and smooth excuse to exit this scene when Betty's glance shifts over to him, and though it's nowhere near as heated as the look she gave Archie, there's a warmth in her eyes. 

"Do you guys want to join us?" she offers, in a sincere and simple way.

Jughead glances at Archie, who's just smiling at her like a doofus. 

The invitation had definitely been for both of them.  _She's just being nice_ , the annoying, stereotypical voice in his head whispers.

Screw it. Besides, he never says no to food. 

"Yes, but only if you're treating," he replies, ambling over.

And just like that, Archie is behind him, and the brunette is smiling and introducing herself as Veronica Lodge, and Betty is teasing him about his name, and it's so normal it's almost surreal. As Jughead sits in the booth, stealing fries from Veronica's plate and watching Archie sling his arm around Betty, he knows he's a little bit invisible. He's not alone, though.

It's enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Betty Cooper has learned to be grateful for small miracles. It's so easy, she knows, to be swept along in the bad, until she's drowning under everything that's going wrong. Whether it's her mother's suffocating expectations, or the bone-deep ache she feels when Archie is near, or the absence of her sister that burns like a hole in her chest, the world looks a little darker these days. Which is why a carefree hour at Pop's with a milkshake and three friends is a miracle Betty intends to drink in until the last possible moment.

She collects the warmth of Archie next to her, the cadence of Veronica's laugh, and even the way Jughead somehow manages to smirk with his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's, and she puts it in a bottle. She wants to save it for a rainy day, this happiness. This certainty that things are going to be okay. 

More than anything, she wants the night to end on a good note. So when Archie pulls on her ponytail and asks if she wants a ride home, Betty says she wants to stay a little while longer. She doesn't think she can handle being in a vehicle alone with him yet, or worse, with him and Veronica. The offer is then extended to the brunette, who hesitantly accepts (after a brief eye-contact conversation in which Betty had to assure her  _yes, I really am okay with it_ ). She lets herself feel jealous, for a moment, when Archie takes Veronica's arm in a way Betty knows is not a platonic Archie thing to do. Then they leave, and it passes.

She's going to be okay.

It occurs to her now that she's alone with Jughead. She waits for him to make a sarcastic joke and excuse himself, knowing he's not really a social person and they're not really friends. But he doesn't. 

Instead, he leans forward and takes one of her pickles off the napkin she's set them aside on, and Betty remembers how he used to do that every time they went to Pop's. When was the last time they'd actually hung out together? Months, at least. Archie's been their only real connection for a while now. She thinks maybe once, they were real friends, but now they're just... people who used to know each other.

And that makes her kind of sad. Because she doesn't dislike Jughead; she actually might miss him. Archie's amazing, but they're not exactly on the same wavelength. Jughead gets things that Archie just doesn't. Didn't.

She studies the boy across from her, as he polishes off what remains of Archie's burger. Damn, he can eat. It's kind of endearing.

It surprises her to find that Jughead doesn't really seem different from her memories of him. In the past two years, Betty feels like she's changed skins so many times, she's not sure which parts of her are herself anymore. But he's still unmistakably Jughead, with his crown beanie and worn jacket and perpetual look of wry amusement, like the world is a disappointment and he's just over it. She wishes she could be that unaffected. More, she wishes she could be that comfortable with herself. Jughead's always known who he is.

She searches for something to say, maybe ask about his job or something, but he breaks the silence first.

"So are you and Archie cool now?" he asks, wadding up his napkin. His eyebrows wag at her in a way that kind of reminds her of Kevin, but at the same time, is 100% Jughead. "No more Cold War?"

Betty shrugs, caught off guard. Then she asks, "Wait, how did you know about that?"

Jughead rolls his eyes. "He's kind of been a mess. Plus, I am an observer by nature."

She considers her answer, and then says simply, "We're fine." Which is true now. That feels good. "What about you two? I haven't seen you around his house much the past couple months."

"We're cool now." He steeples his fingers. "We have buried the proverbial hatchet and expressed our emotions in the primitive customs dictated by male pride."

She laughs, leaning forward on her elbows. "So does that mean I'll see you around more?"

In response, Jughead just gives her a lopsided grin and rubs his thumb against his nose. She hopes that means yes. 

She lingers at the booth a little more, but it's getting late. She can't take an Alice Cooper meltdown tonight. 

"It was good to see you, Juggie," she says, smiling at him as she gets up. Veronica already paid the bill, so they are the only loose ends.

He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You're not going to walk home at night alone, right?" he asks, more please-don't-be-that-stupid in his tone than concern. 

Betty shakes her head. "I texted my dad, he's coming to pick me up."

They're standing pretty close now, and she has to tip her head back a bit to look at him. When did he get so tall? He catches her looking at him, and there's this weird sort of moment where he's looking down at her too, and even though he's not as tall as Archie, Betty feels as if he towers over her. All at once, he does seem different. Very different.

Then she takes a step back, and he leans against the table, and they're at the same level again, and for whatever reason it calms her.

"What about you?" She knows he came here with Archie. He may not have a way home, and it's not much safer for him out there than it is for her. "Do you want us to drop you off?"

He pats the table in an affectionate way that's kind of funny. "I'm good, thanks. Not going home yet."

"Okay. Well..." She steps backwards again. "Good night."

He hops back into the booth, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Night, Betty."

She leaves.

That night, for the first time, she knows she will not always be in love with Archibald Andrews. She finds this knowledge hidden deep inside her, and she draws strength from it. She will get over him. It may take time, but...

It's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be adding more to the series with other unexplored/unmentioned Bughead moments. Feel free to comment with some suggestions ;) Songspiration for this one is "The Only Exception" by Paramore


End file.
